


Io and Behold

by PhysalisFaithful



Category: Enderal (Video Game)
Genre: Anger Management, Bad Decisions, Bad Jokes, Ball of Anger and Anxiety Prophetess, Elemental Magic, F/M, Families of Choice, Getting to Know Each Other, I'm Bad At Tagging, Like jeez, Minor Canonical Character(s), Mother Hen Prophetess, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Game(s), They Have Anger Issues, calm down
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 17:23:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20439731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhysalisFaithful/pseuds/PhysalisFaithful
Summary: They say it begins with the dreams- and while they aren't wrong, this story begins with something very different. It begins with fear. And from fear, is born will. From will, hope. And from hope, strength. Io Altruan, newly-proclaimed Prophetess, needs strength now more than ever, as her life is about to be upheaved- and it is brought by a peculiar man, one who's relentless and deep-seated anger matches her own. What happens when a woman living day-to-day on pure strength and anger makes her move? What happens when she is fighting side-by-side with someone who understands her anger- and her pain? And what happens when she faces the things that lurk in the dark head-on? More importantly, how will she choose to live her life- and end another's? Because a decision has to be made, before both her and Tharael are swallowed up by their anger and fail in their mission to kill the Father. What will she choose?





	1. Chapter One- Blood and Dust

**Author's Note:**

> This story follows the Rhalâta questline, and splits off into it's own story after the questline ends! Very, very, very slow burn. Think like, no hints of romance till ten chapters in- not to mention that it will likely not be what you will expect. Remember, Tharaêl doesn't believe in love, nor is he in the right mind for it. Neither is our poor Prophetess. But hopefully I can spin you a story where the two slowly heal with help from each other and the family they build. This story begins a few days after Fragments of The Past, and during Interlude- only, Interlude is in the span of a few weeks rather than a day. Oh, and spoilers! But you knew that :)

The smell of blood and sweat was heavy and nauseating, mixed with the Undercity's constant smell of sewage, sick, and cheap ale. Io still wasn't sure why she came down here so early- and if she should even be here, but here she was all the same. A Qyranian woman glared at Io as she passed, pushing her way through the throng of people chanting at the fighters in the pit below. Finally, she spotted Rasha, standing next to her usual seat. A heated argument seemed to take place between her and an older man who looked as deceptively frail as her. Rasha paused as Io approached, nodding curtly, before continuing to yell at her father. 

"Are you fucking kidding me?? Either you're paying them, now, or I cut you off again." Rasha growled, and Io slipped seamlessly to her side. Two sets of eyes stared down Rasha's nervous father. 

"Come on, Flower. You jest, right?" He grimaced, eyes darting from the two women to the crowd. 

"She doesn't." Io answered coldly, catching his gaze. He looked away quickly, and when the unnerving stares didn't stop, he nod silently, and padded off. 

Rasha's shoulders slumped as she leaned against the crates, and a relieved sigh escaped her. Io smiled understandingly, tugging her hood farther down her face. After a moment, Rasha turned to her as the crowd suddenly cheered. She let out a low chuckle that could barely be heard and shook her head disbelievingly. 

"You always show up right when you're needed, you know?" She grinned, arms crossing in a relaxed manner. "Bastard doesn't respect me worth shit, so 's nice to have a murderous bitch like you back me up." 

"Murderous bitch? Careful, Rasha, someone might think you're being nice to me." Io smirked, inclining her head to the snarky Aeterna. Rasha waved her off, hopping back onto her crate with a muffled 'humph.' She faced Io, a serious look suddenly plastered on her sharp features. 

"There's a fight available. I won't lie though- it'll be hard this time, and chances are you won't make it out alive. Tonight, you're going to be fighting The Beast- if you're woman enough. " Rasha spoke sternly, propping her elbow up on her knee. 

“The Beast?" Io echoed, the usual anticipation and anxiety already curling in the pit of her stomach. 

"Aye... The pride of the Pit. And the good thing about it: Even if you hack it to shreds, all we need to do is give it some elixir, have our necromancer stick it back together, and it's as good as new." Io began to respond, but Rasha cut her off with an almost concerned look. "But we can't really do the same thing with you, so... I would understand if you wanted to back out. Support it, even. Just- mph." She stopped, breaking eye contact. Io said nothing, giving her time to say what she wanted. 

"Look. I don't do friends. I don't even do acquaintances. I do 'I hate everyone.' But I hate you less than others, and it'd be kind of shitty if I watched your annoying mug get splattered." She spoke stiffly, lowering her voice and avoiding Io's gaze. 

"You really know how to make a murderous bitch feel special, Rasha." Io responded, her face lit with a soft smile. Rasha glared at her, but Io could see the laugh in her eyes. "But you know I'm going to fight." She continued, soft smile fading to a grim, determined frown. Rasha's shoulders slumped once again. 

"...You'd kill it as a mercenary, you own a home in the Nobles Quarter, so you're not destitute, and you might find less dangerous work elsewhere. So why do you keep coming back to the Arena?" Rasha asked after a moment's pause. Io took a second to answer, thinking. 

"I only know how to fight. I mean, I can cook, but I'm not going to make upwards of 300 something pennies by cooking.” she chuckled, raising her eyebrow at Rasha. “And I don't want to leave the city in case the Order calls on me. So, despite the 'warm welcome' a sunchild gets in the Undercity, here I am." She explained frankly. 

Rasha looked mildly surprise, then nodded. "Y'know, I completely forgot you do stuff for the Order. Though I suppose you're definitely bitchy enough to be. 

Io laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Thanks, so much, truly." 

Rasha had reluctantly sent Io down to the cages after that to prepare, and the Cagemaster had just swung by to inform Io that she was up next. So here she stood- or sat, rather. Her pack was emptied- potions, scrolls, books, and a few odd weapons spread before her. The noise of the crowd rose suddenly, and Io glanced over to see one of the fighters in the pit was holding their side as they scurried away from their opponent. She ignored them, turning back to her belongings. Bending down, she picked up a potion of Ambrosia, four high-quality mana potions, and a stamina potion. Tucking the mana and stamina potions in her sash, she uncorked the white vial of the vile- but necessary, substance. 

"Down the hatch." She muttered for courage, before tilting her head back and tipping the Ambrosia down her throat. It tasted as disgusting as ever, and she had to stop herself from gagging while drinking, but she managed to down it all in one go. It left the usual bad aftertaste in the back of her throat and she could feel it coat her tongue, but it worked a hell of a lot better than before Lishari had cast the spell which helped her fever. The headache was so faint, that she wouldn't notice it unless she thought about it. She did, however, notice the quick ripple of electricity that ran up her arms before dissipating. With a frown, she shook out her arms and prayed she wouldn't shock herself if she touched metal. 

She wasn't surprised it was happening, though. Her nerves were a mess, and the pre-fight apprehension churned her gut. Honestly, Io just wanted to get out into the Pit already. She didn't have time to think about nerves or anxiety during a battle- just instinct and quick decisions. Placing her hands on her knees and inhaling, she held her breath for a moment, counting the seconds, before slowly exhaling. She felt her anxiety fade a smidge. She still must thank Jespar for that tip. She began shoving her things back into the pack when she heard the crowd start roaring and the announcer speak, grabbing a scroll and a small health potion. She ensured her hood was down far enough to conceal her face, and quickly stood when the Cagemaster rounded the corner. 

"Ready?" He asked, voice gruff and uncaring. Charming, really. 

Io said nothing, but nodded, and handed him her pack. He nodded in return and motioned to the gate that led into the Arena. She turned and saw a gaunt woman and a fighter drag a motionless body out of the pit. Looking through the bars of the gate, Io saw her opponent swaying in a cage just under the crowded railing. 

Well fuck. 

The Beast stood, at the very least, a good 7 feet tall- probably taller, if it stood properly. Io wasn't short by any means, but she was dwarfed in comparison to the grotesque, miss-matched creature that stared blankly with listless eyes. Rasha had said she was surprised when Io hadn't pissed herself when Raga Shadowclaw had turned during their battle, but Io wasn't surprised she was tempted to do so facing The Beast. Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out. She closed her eyes, clenching her hands tightly. Her nails dug into the skin of her palms, and her magic responded by crackling reassuringly up her arms and down her body. The creak of the blood-rusted gate broke her from her calm as it swung open. With another deep breath, she stepped into the Pit. 

"Meydame and Meyseres, a cordial welcome to the Dust Pit! You know who I am, I know who you are, and above all I know why you are here today! Because you want to see a fight! She needs no introduction, yet I shall give it to you nonetheless! Nothing but a small-time nobody a few weeks ago, she has quickly climbed the ranks of the Pit, despite life-threatening opposition from her foes! She is sure to give us quite the spectacle tonight. I give you... 'The Nameless One'!" 

Io walked into the center of the Pit, cheers erupting from the overzealous crowd on the balcony above. She tilted her head up to scan their faces, and raised her arms slowly, hands splayed outwards. The magic residing in her reacted immediately, crackling to life in a huge, awe-inspiring display as lightning arched between her arms, wildly branching from one hand to the other. The crowd responded with roars of approval, and the Announcer turned to face the crowd with a flourish. 

"An impressive display of power from our most beloved rookie! I can tell we're all rather excited for tonight's show, no?" He all but yelled over the crowd, a round of applause rising from the raucous people. "But! Can the 'Nameless One' also oppose the beast that's been soaking this soil in blood for decades now? We shall see!" 

"Unleash the Beast!" 

At those words, the monster inside the too-small cage suddenly came to attention, and a small waif slipped from behind the Beast's cage. With a click, she removed the huge padlock keeping the beast contained, and quickly rushed back into the relative safety of a door hewn into the rock-face. Io watched solemnly as the massive creature trained its milky, unfocused eyes on her. The Beast let out a fierce roar which shook the ground, and Io looked up nervously as she felt dust and pebbles hit the top of her head. She jumped back in surprise as the Beast suddenly raised its club and brought it down on the door of its cage, the sound of screeching metal wrenching tight grimaces from the crowd, and Io felt her heart jump up into her throat. Without a second thought, she quickly reached for the scroll tucked into the back of her sash, keeping her eyes on the uncoordinated creature picking its way through the mangled cage door. 

"It's slow and has an awkward gait due to its mismatched parts. But if the blood splatter has anything to say, the bastard hits hard." Io murmured to herself, muscle memory guiding her fingers under the paper of the scroll, sliding along until the wax seal gave way with a crisp snap. She felt a burning ice stain her hands, and the scroll quickly went up in pale blue flames, the embers wrapping a cocoon around Io's form. The Beast took notice as the scroll unleashed its spell, Winter Skin, and roared with anger. Io grit her teeth, taking battle stance and letting her magic ripple up and down her raised arms. The Beast raised its club once again, this time focused solely on the woman mage before it, and Io shut all thought out of her mind, letting her magic take the wheel with her head raised high. Yet, as Io prepared herself for a fight to the death, something extraordinary happened. 

A flash of magic, a silhouette, the sound of steel breaking through flesh rang out, and fresh, red blood hit the ground. 

Another flash, the sound of steel meeting skin, and the pungent scent of blood flooded Io's senses. 

With a third burst of magic, Io watched, slack-jawed, as a man danced gracefully around the front of the Beast and delivered a quick blow to the Beast's other knee. The monster stumbled as its legs gave out, and time seemed to slow as the strange man fluidly guided his blood-coated blade up, and straight through the creature's jaw. Blood, bright and wrongly viscous, splattered the man's form with a heavy sound, and gravity pulled the Beast off his blade. It hit the floor with a thunderous sound, shaking the ground and sending blood and dust flying in all directions. 

Shouts of anger and confusion echoed from the crowd, and Io faintly noticed the announcer yelling something at the stranger, but it all sounded far away as she watched the man, short swords held at the ready, turn towards her. Intense indigo eyes caught her, an unrecognizable glint festering in his gaze. Only then did she notice the familiar armor of the Rhalâta. 

"Let's see you dance." A harsh voice called, and the man took a step towards her. "Nameless One." 

Suddenly, he broken into a dash, twins blades poised to deal serious damage. Her magic instinctively surged, mixing with the storm of cold still wrapped around her body, and as the Rhalâta's sword dug into the armor on her shoulder, lightning and frost danced up his blade. He jumped back in shock, feet kicking up a cloud of dirt. Without hesitation, Io flung herself at him, and gripped his chest's armor- she unleashed everything in her, the room darkening as lighting, bright and uncontrollable, danced in violent arches between her and the man. A hand gripped her hair, pulling tightly at her scalp with a burning sensation, and she grimaced as the man roughly threw her away from him. She was surprised he could do that in spite of her lightning, but it was just what she needed. She hit the ground, and immediately sprung up, using her momentum to propel herself forward. She dashed for the Beast, pulling a blue vial from her sash. Using all her mana in one go left her feeling violently nauseated and vulnerable. She heard quick steps gaining on her, and she released the Winter Skin, the spell dissipating in a sudden burst of cold energy. Her attacker was distracted enough for her to slide behind the Beast, and quickly down the mana potion. Her stomach lurched from the unpleasant feeling of going from full to nothing, and back again. She immediately rose, lighting crackling up her arms defiantly, but was met with cold steel. One sword caught her arm, cloth and skin tearing with a burning feeling, while the second sword slashed across her chest, stopped only by the hard steel pin securing her hood. Her nose was flooded with the scent of burnt leather, and it edged her on. 

Io let out a chain of lighting that raced to the man, whipping across his shoulder, and she took the moment to gain distance. The minute the man turned back to her with a fire in his startling eyes, she scowled, outstretching her arms to him, releasing the power of her Talent- Shock Nova. In a split second, the man crossed his arms in front of his face, and Io let the sparks fly. The lightning, however, was nothing but a distraction for another spell. The man stumbled as Io's spectral wolf tore violently at the man's leg, whipping its head side to side as blood flung off its transparent jowls. He turned to bury his sword in its flank, and that was enough for Io to down another potion of mana. She let loose another wave of lighting, focused on the weakened part of his armor, unrelenting- even as her mana dropped lower and lower. 

She let out a growl, which slowly morphed into a hoarse scream as she poured all her magic into plowing the man into the bloodied dust with her lightning. 

When indigo eyes met her own, she saw a satisfied smile hidden in their depths. The man fell to his uninjured knee, and Io reflexively stopped casting. 

"Good... That's enough. Let's talk." He said, his voice carrying across the arena with ease. Suddenly, she felt unfamiliar magic invade her, moving too quickly for her to repel it- and she felt the familiar sensation of Teleportation as violet flashed over her vision. 

Io stumbled as she phased to... wherever this was. She felt bile rise in her throat, as it always did when she used Teleportation magic, but pushed it down with nothing but pure anger. She glared daggers at the man that stood before her, rising from where she was doubled over. Her magic responded to her agitation by dancing dangerously up her arms. 

"Fair enough." the stranger commented, raising his hands in defense. "...this is better." Io remained silent, staring down- no, up, the man. Again, Io wasn't short by any means, but the bastard was tall. Judging from his height and the pointed ears, likely Aeterna. He wore the usual mask of a Rhalâta, so half of his face was obscured- but the half that she could see, she scrutinized. The man had pale skin and his hair was cut close to his scalp like most Rhalâta, along with a faint, small symbol painted in between his thin, neat brows and scars peeked out from under his mask, one seated across the bridge of his nose- but it was those intense, violet eyes that caught her attention the most. They admittedly complemented his shapely features. 

"Forgive me my dramatic entrance." the Rhalâta spoke in a smooth, slightly accented voice, clasping his hands behind his back and bowing deeply. 

"I hope you have a damned good explanation for this. Otherwise we'll continue where we left off." Io growled, crossing her arms and staring down the stranger. 

"Come now, will you?" He responded with a teasing tone, folding his own arms over his chest. "I don't want to kill you, otherwise I'd have fought very differently." Io ignored the thinly veiled threat, choosing to simply to glare up at him. 

He bowed his head to her. "I'm Tharaêl Narys, Voice of the Father. I've been watching you for a while now because I'm looking for someone with your set of skills. And our little encounter down in the pit erased the last doubts I had about you." 

"Voice of the Father?" Io echoed suspiciously, cocking her head. The man- Tharaêl, suddenly looked at her face sharply. Recognition lit his eyes. 

"Hm, that accent... You're an Outlander, aren't you?" The surprise laced his voice, and Io answered with a curt nod. Tharaêl looked away. "Shit, does that mean I have to explain who the Rhalâta is to you?" He mumbled under his breath, glancing quickly at Io again. 

"I know who you are. A group of cutthroats robbing the people down here of their last penny." Io snarked defiantly, hand going to finger the edges of her torn sleeve. Tharaêl uncrossed his arms with another look of surprise, before chuckling lightly with a shake of his head. 

"You've got guts. I'll give you that." he remarked with a pleasant lift to his voice. "The Rhalâta is more than a bunch of criminals though... But we'll get there." His eyes watched as Io traced around the gash in her arm, before meeting her green eyes once again. 

"Regarding your original question: The 'Voices' are the military arm of the Rhalâta. I'm sure you've seen some of us before... we come into play when a matter needs a 'strong hand' to resolve itself." Tharaêl explained, waving his hand in a vague gesture. Io shifted onto her other foot, pausing to think. 

"Hm. So this was supposed to be some kind of... test?" 

"Indeed. Let me get straight to the point: I want to hire you. For a mission." Tharaêl explained, watching Io closely for her reaction. She felt a stab of annoyance but brushed it down with a sigh. 

"Do I look like a mercenary?" She said, placing her hand on her hip and giving him a look. Tharaêl raised an eyebrow at her. 

"Well, you look like someone willing to slaughter other people in front of a gawking crowd for a handful of coins... at least that's what you did down there." He responded, and Io flinched, looking away. "Don't get me wrong, I don't judge- the pit fighters know exactly what they're getting themselves into. But after what I saw you do down there, I concluded you're willing to do a lot of things if the pay is right. Or am I wrong?" He continued, looking intently at Io's turned face. 

She felt a flare of anger and turned towards him to deny it- only to stop as her anger deflated. He isn't wrong. While Io didn't really need the money herself, there were two people who depended on her as they didn't have any way of taking care of themselves- so while she did have money, it could only go so far for three people. She told Rasha she fought in the Pit because fighting was the only thing she could do, and Io hadn't lied. But it hadn't been the whole truth either. After a moment's pause, she finally met Tharaêl's gaze again. 

"No, you're not." She reluctantly whispered, determined not to flinch away from the Aeterna's intense violet eyes. He nodded at her understandingly, but she could see the mild curiosity on his face. "Fair enough. So, tell me about this mission." She concluded with a sharp breath, directing the conversation back towards their original topic. 

"Well actually, it's simple. I want your help in killing someone." He answered frankly and brushed past Io. She turned to find him leaning on a wall, his arms crossed again. There was a dark look on his face and an unreadable emotion in his downcast eyes. Io took a few tentative steps towards him, standing at his side, and he turned his head slightly to look down at her face. "The Father." 

"Wait- the head of the Rhalâta? Your leader?" She sputtered, taken aback. 

"Their leader. Not mine." Tharaêl spat, looking at her angrily. Io was momentarily surprised by his sudden outburst but shut her mouth and forced down her shock to listen patiently. Tharaêl grumbled something, averting his eyes. It was a minute before he spoke again. 

"When I was six years old, the Rhalâta abducted me and a dozen other children... that is, they bought us. Sha'Gun, the old cunt who owned our orphanage, sold us like cattle." He said, looking straight ahead rather than at Io- which she was grateful for, as her face twisted in rage and lightning dared to wildly spark down her body. Of course, it had to involve children. She closed her eyes, clenching her hands in a fist so tight that her fingernails dug painfully into her palms. Io really, really, needed to find a better way of getting control of her anger issues than stabbing her hands with her nails. She took in a shaky breath, and Tharaêl looked sideways at her curiously. 

"The Rhalâta abducted you? Children?" She asked calmly, forcing her eyes shut. The leftover anxiety and adrenaline from her fight, along with this fresh fury, meant she couldn't trust her control over her magic right now. 

"Us, and over the years, at least a dozen more. And we all came from the same orphanage," Tharaêl chuckled scornfully, his features dark, "The 'Refuge'. And no, I have no idea what they did to us... I remember nothing." He said matter-of-factly, shrugging his shoulders. 

"So, you were an orphan?" Io asked hesitantly, leaning against the wall next to him and peeking at his face from the corner of her eye. 

"Yes." he answered simply. Io felt something stir in her chest, an understanding. She remembered how it felt to be alone like that, then to be sold away without a care. A small kernel of trust formed in her, although she wouldn't ever admit to it, and she let her head fall against the wooden wall. She noticed that she felt calmer, but brushed it off. 

"...You said that the woman who ran the orphanage sold you? Why?" 

"Why? Probably because the Father shoved an ingot of gold up her arse for every child she sold." he scoffed, half-heartedly shrugging a shoulder. "But the Fleshmaggots got her a while ago, so she took her reasons to the grave with her." Io hummed agreeingly, thinking. 

"Why would the Father abduct children?" 

"That's the big question, isn't it? At first, I thought it was about child trafficking... you know, tender little knaves and girls for rich bastards-- Ark's bigwigs. Yet now, I've come to the conclusion that it must have been about science. Experiments." Io looked at him, shocked. 

"You mean… The Rhalâta conducted experiments on you?" she asked, clearly appalled. 

"Only the Father." Tharaêl responded, shaking his head. "As I said, I'm pretty sure you have the wrong idea about them- the Rhalâta doesn't see itself as a guild of murderers, but as a faith… a sect, a cult, in other words. The blackmailing, the shadow tax- it's how they finance their little community." Tharaêl waved his hand dismissively and Io looked away. 

"Huh. And what do they believe in?" she asked, curiosity peaked. 

Tharaêl explained slowly, as if repeated something that was drilled into his mind over and over. "That the physical body is the worst thing that ever happened to man. It's a hull that needs to transcend. But we digress- if we're to work together, you'll soon have some robed cultist telling you all this shit anyway." 

"I see." Io said, "But you're alive- does that mean you were somehow able to flee?" 

"Kind of. After the Father was done with us, he simply disposed of our corpses. This is also my first memory I have of that time after the abduction… waking up in a pile of dead bodies." Tharaêl glanced over to his right to find Io silently listening with an undecipherable look. "I don't know exactly, but I must have been somewhere between twelve to fourteen years old- still half a child, in other words. As you can imagine, I was a… I was a mess for the first few moons after that. Once I was able to think somewhat straight again, I looked for help in the Upper City. Of course, the guards didn't believe a word of what I said and sent me right back down into the caverns." 

"Wait- you told them that the Rhalâta conducts experiments on children and they didn't do anything?!" Io spat, jumping off the wall and spinning to face Tharaêl. The mage was visibly shaking with anger. She knew the Upper City didn't care for those in the Undercity, but this was too much. 

"No. And frankly, it doesn't surprise me: I'm sure hundreds of ragged kids from the undercity had come to them before, telling horror stories about how much they suffered down there only to get a bed and some food. Also, as you may have figured out by now, the Order doesn't have any power down here. The Rhalâta controls the caves, and that's how it'll stay." He answered calmly, eyeing the electricity that rose the back of Io's hair. Io breathed in and held it, slowly releasing it a moment after. When she had calmed down, she shot an apologetic look towards Tharaêl, and he bowed his head. 

"… I'm not sure what to say. That's horrible." she said somberly, flattening her short red hair back down. She honestly did think that, that was horrible. Io had always had a huge soft-spot for children, especially after meeting the two who she takes care of. 

"Many things are. Still, they happen." Tharaêl answered with a similar somberness and Io noticed something in his eyes again. For a Rhalâta, Io thought, he was unusually expressive- but only in his eyes. She stored that thought away, saving it for later. 

"Yet now you're a Voice of the Father and you intend to kill him. So, you're some kind of… infiltrator?" She continued, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back on her feet. 

"Correct." Tharaêl nodded to her. "Let's put it this way. I came to realize that, no matter how much I cursed and cried, nobody would come to my help. So, I decided to take matter into my own hands. I taught myself how to survive and how to fight, and years later, entered the Dust Pit for the first time. One of the Voices saw how well I could fight and offered to let me study the Rhalâs." 

"Rhalâs?" She echoed, confused. 

"Their codex, their holy scripture… written by the Father himself. I shaved my head and became a scion, the lowest rank." Why does all Rhalâta have shaved heads anyways? Io would have to ask this later. 

"How long ago was that?" She asked, "Your initiation?" 

"Eight years ago." 

"What, and nobody recognized you? Not even the Father?" Io said, surprised. 

"The Father doesn’t bother with most Rhalâim, especially not with scions. Also, when they discarded me, I was still a child… now I am a man." Tharael answered, and Io had to hold in an amused scoff. Just cause he's tall, doesn't mean he's a 'man'. 

"So now you're out for revenge." 

"Revenge…" Tharaêl trailed off, thinking. "Yes. I want this monster to pay for what it did to me and the others, and I want to make sure that it will never hurt anyone again. Ever." Io looked at his eyes again, and saw determination- and anger, swimming in their depths. "One of the core beliefs of the Rhalâta concerns the 'Day of Transcendence'- it's the day when every Rhalâim who has proven him or herself worthy, leaves his body to continue existing as an immortal, immaterial being. And they also believe that this day is imminent, since the Father found a way to 'achieve' transcendence for himself and for his lambs. In the weeks to come, he will set out on an expedition to the Frostcliff Mountains. Since this expedition will be an extremely dangerous undertaking, he will bring along almost a dozen of the best mercenaries available." He turned to her once again, face serious. "You will be one of them- and together, we will kill the Father." 

Io took a moment to process everything, then began to ask the rest of her questions. "What kind of expedition?" 

"Well, the Rhalâta spent the past two years excavating an old temple that, apparently, was lost in a glacier for centuries. According to the father, this is where we'll find the key to achieve transcendence… but that's about all I know." Tharaêl grunted. 

"What, and you're telling me all this just because you saw me fight?" Io asked, tilting her head to catch his gaze. 

"I am telling you all this because I need someone who knows how to kill… better than the usual cutthroat you find down here. And you seem to be that someone." He said, eyebrow raised. Then, he paused. "Also… there's something about you. I can't say what, but I feel as though you're the right person for the job." He turned away from Io. "Let's leave it at that." 

“Sounds like a bloody risky plan. What’s in it for me?” She didn’t really want to ask this question, but she knew she had to. 

“Well, I can pay you four hundred pennies now, and eight hundred more when the Father is dead.” he said frankly. Io thought she heard him wrong for a moment. That’s a lot of pennies. 

"Can I think about this?" Io wanted in on this mission, paid or not, as she wanted to bring redemption for the children this 'Father' hurt. But she didn't know when Grandmaster Arantheal would call on her, ready to begin fighting the Cycle in earnest. Not to mention, she wanted to keep an eye on the boys, as their father had been getting too ballsy lately. 

"No. You either agree now or the offer is off the table. I can't afford to lose any more time." Tharaêl answered curtly. Io sighed and nodded acceptingly. She would have to figure out a way to balance everything. 

"And how can we convince the Father to hire me as a mercenary?" 

"By doing something that impresses him. As you can imagine, the Rhalâta already has its stock of sellswords they rely on. But if we do something that impresses the Father or his First Seer, it might be enough to convince him to hire you." he replied and noticed the uncertain look Io gave him. Tharaêl sighed, uncrossing his arms. "Look, I know how shaky it sounds, but it's our best bet. So: Are you with me or not?" Io looked down, her dust-covered leather boots winking in the harsh light. She was silent for a moment, weighing her desires and options- and fighting memories that threatened to surface. Finally, she looked up, meeting Tharaêl's gaze. 

"Yes. I'll help. If what you say about the Father is true, he needs to face justice." she spoke, determination practically spilling out of her. 

"Absolutely." Tharaêl agreed, and Io took note of the fire that burned in his eyes. "Meet me at the Wailing tree two hours from now." He spoke, pushing himself off the wall. Io smiled, and held out her hand. 

"My name- it's Io. Io Altruan. I'm glad to be working with you, Tharaêl." she said, giving him a kind smile. For a second, Io thought she saw suspicion cross Tharaêl's face but dismissed the thought when he clasped her hand with a similar smile sparkling his eyes. 

"Likewise, Io." he said, saying her name slowly as if testing how it sounded. He released her hand, then he seemed to remember something. "Ah, and uh, here- this will help you get back to the Undercity in case you need to return to the surface before our meeting. Stay safe, Io."


	2. Chapter Two- The Moments In-between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Prophetess spends her free time, and we get a closer look at her motivations.

After Tharaêl and Io had finished talking, the Aeterna had disappeared with another flash of that violet Teleportation magic. She downed a quick healing potion for the gash on her arm, shaking her head at the mild feeling of her arcane fever increasing. Io did in fact want to return to the Upper City as Tharael had mentioned, but she was a bit of a scroll-hoarder, so she had opted to walk back and forth, and instead stashed the scrolls Tharaêl had given her in her satchel- Teleportation scrolls, in fact. She needed to pick up some things from the house, and she also wanted to go visit her two favorite boys. 

Io had exited that small room to find herself in the marketplace, and with ease, made her way through the alleyways filled with the usual waifs and Fleshmaggot sufferers. A few Rhalâta eyed her as she made her way to the Barracks, but they didn't give her a second thought. She passed by little Felliah, a sweet girl who was stuck in the Undercity along with her parents. The Hoofbeats were a good family, so thankfully Io don't have to worry about her too much. She made her way up the long ramps of the Undercity's main cavern, and finally reached the humongous double wooden doors that kept the Undercity shut off from the rest of Ark. She pounded her fist roughly against the thick wood, and after a short delay, the two guards who guarded the door had pulled one open for her. They had nodded to Io as she thanked them, already used to her coming back and forth from the Undercity. She pushed her way through the South and Market Quarters, keeping to the walls to avoid having to chat with the gossipy citizens of Ark. As she approached the open doors of the Noble's Quarter, Io let out an audible sigh of relief. She didn't have to worry about someone stopping her, as the nobles were too proud to be seen talking to a dirt-covered Pathless. 

Io walked along the river that cut through the center of the Noble's Quarter, and as soon as her home came into view, a bright smile lit her face. Riverside was a large, three-story home that Io loved with all her heart. It stood proudly at the end of the Noble's Quarter- and best of all, whoever lived next to her was never home, so she had the quiet little corner all to herself. Riverside had practically costed a fortune, and Io had saved liberally to be able to afford her home. 

She approached the front door and slipped the key out of her side-satchel- and with a click, she entered her home. Io threw the door shut behind her, immediately flopped onto a bench at the table, and leaned against the table's worn wooden top with a content sigh. The hearth glowed peacefully, and the room was filled with a perfect silence. Io loved these moments in-between the chaos of her new life- a warm fire, a comforting silence, a good book, and the knowledge that the now free woman sat in a home of her own that she won with hard work and perseverance. She sat simply sat there with a dumb smile on her face, her hood pushed back and head resting on the table. 

She couldn't stop thinking about what Tharaêl had told her, though. The Father? Experiments on children? Why? What happened to them? And just who is Tharaêl? Thousands of questions flew through her mind at once, but one thing stood out to her the most. They both wanted to stop the Father and bring justice for those who were caught in whatever nefarious deeds they committed. However, her anger was quickly growing out of control. At this point, Io couldn't deny it anymore- she had a problem. It would rise with the simplest of matters, and threaten to overtake her sensibilities, however strongly she forced her impossible fury down. The constant anxiety, paranoia, and anger mixes into nothing but a large heaping pile of myriad-shit, and she needs to fix it before she hurts someone- or herself. One step at a time, however. It would be a long process to work on her damaged mental state after everything she went through in Nerhim, but it was about time she let her old pains go. 

With that thought, Io pushed herself up off the table bench and she stepped into the kitchen. The basket she had set aside earlier that morning was sitting right where she left it, and Io pulled back the towel she covered it with. The smell of still-warm food flooded her nose and she smiled, proud of her work. She grabbed a bottle of water and ale, and placed those, along with three tankards, carefully inside the basket. Covering it once more, she turned back to the center of the room and made for the stairs. She went through the study into the bathroom and used the small water basin and a fresh towel to wipe the dirt off of her arms, and as much of her equipment as she could. She might have to take the breast-plate in for repairs soon. Io made a mental note and threw the dirty towel on the side of the empty tub. She paused to look at her appearance in the frosty mirror and combed through her hair with her fingers. Staring at herself, she frowned at her shorn-too-short strawberry blonde hair and speckling of pale freckles that dotted her paler face. She wanted to grow her hair back out, a small sign of defiance against her old life, but it wasn't happening very quickly. 

She had made her way back down to the kitchen after cleaning up, the basket now tucked safely under her arm. Io looked around at her home once more, still smiling like a fool. Despite the bullshit of the Cycle and the High Ones screwing their world over, her mental mess, and her bull-shit she puts up with, Io thought life was good- and hopefully it will just get better from here. And to add to her hopeful mood- much like had Tharaêl had said about her- something about the strange Aeterna and his eyes made her feel like this was right, working together to stop the Father. 

Io had made her way back down into the Undercity quickly, buzzing with excitement as she marched straight to the Marketplace, where she waited impatiently. She smiled widely and waved as soon as she noticed two familiar shapes come towards her, and two identical excited smiles grew as they noticed the Arazealean woman. 

"IO!!" Logen exclaimed, rushing her. She held the basket away from her for safety as the boy tackled her in a hug, laughing light-heartedly. Aerev trotted behind his brother, grinning shyly at her. 

"Hello Io. Need some help?" He asked, pulling up next to the two. Logen grinned at his brother. 

"I think so, dear." Io chuckled holding the basket out to Aerev. His grin grew mischievously, before he joined his brother in squeezing the life out of her. "Not quite what I meant," she wheezed, patting the top of his head, "but that works too." 

Finally, the boys let go, twin brown eyes looking at her humorously. 

"Is it time for lunch already, Mom?" Logen joked and Io fought back a sudden surge of misty eyes. Logen and Aerev had started calling Io that a month ago, when she first started taking care of the boys. 

It had been the first time Io had gone down into the Undercity. She was appalled and shocked at the condition of the people living there- if you could even call it living. She had been trying to go to the marketplace, when two scrawny boys no older than fifteen held her at knife-point, demanding money with nervous, shaking voices. The sight hit home hard, saddening Io immensely, and she ended up talking to the boys- who honestly felt horrible about trying to rob her. But they had no other choice, they explained, as their father had been spending every penny they had chasing his next bottle of booze, and they were unable to pay the shadow tax. Io, furious that the two had to go something like this and knowing they could be so much more if only given the chance, gave them the money for the tax without question. When Logen had asked why she would do this, Io thought about how different her life would have been had she been given a chance like this long ago. However, she simply told the boys that she knew they could be better, and after that, she would seek them out each time she went into the Undercity. At first, Logen and Aerev were confused as to why a sunchild was so worried about how they were and constantly making sure they had a proper meal, but they both began to notice how Io understood their situation better than most, and connected the dots on their own. They accepted her help and grew to enjoy the time they spend with the motherly Arazealean- much more than the turbulous time spent with their own father. She had broken down crying the first time Logen called her mom, much to the confused horror of poor Aerev. 

Logen was the more outspoken, confident one of the two- although it had taken a while before his confidence in himself grew. Aerev was the shy, soft-spoken one, silent and attentive, and always curious about the world around him. Io took them under her wing, teaching them as much as she could- helping them learn to read, teaching them how to hunt and cook- she couldn't help but love the two, determined to keep them safe and well taken care of. 

"Lunch it is. Shall we?" she smiled, holding an arm out. Logen looped his arm around hers, and Aerev stood dutifully at her opposite side, smiling radiantly. 

The three settled down at their usual spot near the old Waterworks, eating the toasted sandwiches and cheese rolls Io had prepared that morning. Logen, as usual, tried for the ale, only to be fended off by a chortling Io. They talked for a good while, Io filling the boys in on her latest escapades with Jespar and Calia, and the boys talking about a new game they made up for the younger kids of the Undercity. By the time they finished their lunch, Io figured it was time to dig out the last item tucked away inside the basket. 

"Logen, Aerev, I have something to give you two." She said with a smile, rummaging through the basket. They both looked up with matching, curious looks. She opened her palm, revealing a key which she held out a key to them. Logen hesitantly took it, looking from the key, to Io, and back again. Aerev suddenly looked up from staring at the key, meeting Io's gaze with a stunned look of realization. 

"That is a key to Riverside, my home in the Noble's Quarter. I very likely will be leaving Ark for some time and I was planning to give you two a key anyways- this was simply a perfect time and reason." she explained, her smile softening as Logen looked at her with a similarly stunned look. The boys looked at each other disbelievingly, and after a moment, Aerev shared a soft smile with his brother. 

"Wow. This is... something really serious." Logen said slowly, looking up at Io. He smiled. "Who knows, we could clear you out while you're gone, and you wouldn't know. You're putting that kind of trust in us?" 

"Of course, without question. I know you two. You're good kids. You deserve a chance, and I want to give it to you. Also, I understand you two are sick of being stuck at home with your father, so my home could always be your little bit of freedom." She grinned, giving them a knowing look. Logen grinned back at her, shaking his head disbelievingly. Aerev smiled sweetly, and leaned over, wrapping his arms around Io tightly. The woman wrapped an arm around him as well, rubbing his back comfortingly, holding another arm out to Logen. He launched himself at her, pulling a muffled 'oomph' from his brother. Io rested her head on the boys', whispering silently: "You are as much my family as my flesh and blood. More so, truly. I love you two dearly." 

Io parted from Logen and Aerev shortly after with promises of coming to see them again soon, filled with fond goodbyes and an affectionate feeling settling in her heart. Her next stop was the Dust Pit, where her pack and Rasha awaited her. 

She pushed her way through a retreating crowd, the day fights likely over for today. Night was approaching, but the next fight wouldn't be for several more hours. Finally, she managed to shove her way through, and pitched over into the relatively empty arena. The Cagemaster was just coming up from the training cages, her pack held in one hand. He looked up, surprised to see the mage standing there, and Io walked to meet him. 

"Thought you were dead." He gruffly stated, staring down at her stoically. Io sighed exasperatedly, shaking her head at the bear of a man. 

"I can feel the relief practically coming off you in waves. I didn't realize how deeply you cared about me, truly." she sassed, holding out her hand. The Cagemaster grunted, rolling his eyes, and dropped the backpack straps in her waiting hand. To her credit though, he patted her shoulder as he walked past her. She knew she'd crack through his tough exterior one day, she though with a small laugh. Io slung her bag over her shoulder, making her way over to where Rasha usually was. To her surprise, Rasha wasn't sitting on her crates, and was nowhere to be seen. Io thought about turning back for now- she had her pack and she could always come back later, until she heard a sharp gasp behind her. She turned, only to find the Aeterna stalking towards her with a dangerous look on her face. Io put her hands up with a confused grimace, backing up against the crates as Rasha drew close, taking in a deep breath sharply. 

"Did that little fucking bitch touch you?" She all but screamed, her voice dripping with poison. Io's shoulders sagged with relief, eyes screwed shut, and she let out the breath she held. 

"Hello to you too, Rasha. And no, I'm quite alright." she answered, lowering her hands. Rasha mumbled something under her breath about 'Lily-livered Rhalâta' and 'Good for nothing dog-shits', before giving Io a thorough once-over. 

"What did he want?" She growled angrily, crossing her arms and leaning against the crates next to Arazealean. Io opened her mouth to answer her, but paused. Perhaps she shouldn't say anything, at least not until she talked about it with Tharaêl. 

"Bastard wanted me to join the 'lily-livered dog-shits' organization. Said I 'fought well, for a sleeper'. I told him to shove his head up his arse." Io lied, giving Rasha a smirk, pushing down the guilt that swirled with her pent up anxiety and churned her stomach. She could see smug pride twinkling in the scalding woman's eyes, and Io felt remorseful about lying to her, but it seemed the better choice- for now at least. 

"That s'what I'm talking about! Fuckin' right, mate." She grinned at Io, nodding appreciatingly. "Shove it to those bastards." 

"So..." Io trailed off, rocking back on her heels, shifting the conversation. "Am I able to continue fighting?" she asked, cocking her head- and at that, Rasha suddenly looked away. She didn't say anything, but Io felt it was less her not wanting to answer, and more her trying to gather her words. Io waited patiently for the woman to speak. Rasha let out a tired sigh after a short-lived moment. 

"I really want to say yes, Io. But I can't. Doesn't matter that you told the bastard to go fuck himself- you dealt with the Rhalâta. No pit fighter, no matter how powdered in Glimmercap dust he is, will voluntarily fight a 'friend' of the Rhalâta. If he loses, he dies. Now, he thinks if he wins, he still dies, because the Father's Voices will come get him." she sighed, dropping her head and rubbing her temple. 

"Damn..." Io mumbled, looking up at the ceiling. Tharaêl said she gets a shit-ton of money for helping him with the Father, but she will have to find a different source of income if she wants to support herself and the boys comfortably. 

"Oh, don't make that look." Rasha groaned, glaring at Io, which the mage returned with a small smile. "Look, there's not much I can do now, but maybe- just maybe- you can come back in a couple of moons or so, once the dust has settled. I can probably work you back into rotation then." she said, bumping her shoulder against Io. 

"Thanks, Rasha.” Io smiled at the Aeterna earnestly. Rasha scoffed, hiding her face and rubbing at an imaginary stain on her shirt. 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Now you can't say I don't do anything for you." She grumbled, pushing off the crates and beginning to stride away. She waved at Io over her shoulder. "I gotta prepare for the next batch of fights. Stop by sometime so I can make sure you haven't gotten yourself killed, eh?" She called behind her. 

"Will do, Rasha." Io called back, watching as her hot-headed friend disappeared down a flight of stairs. "Will do." 

Io had hung around for a few minutes more afterwards, taking in the strangely quiet arena and killing time with an unread book till it was time to meet with Tharaêl. “Lyrical Gushes and Other Fluids: A Guide to Prince Mith's Poems”. Bleurgh.


End file.
